


Of Fire and Mind

by starkilling



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Eventual Smut, Graphic Depictions of Phobias, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), Minor psychological trauma, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Soulmates, Top Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkilling/pseuds/starkilling
Summary: At the age of eighteen, every person has the opportunity to enter thefear simulation. Keith has never understood the point of it - testing one’s ability to handle the greatest traumas imaginable in exchange for finding the person they’re destined to spend the rest of their life with.He’s never been the type to believe in soulmates, but avoiding the simulation is a luxury he isn't allowed to have. Especially not when a letter addressed to him comes in the mail with big, menacing bold print at the top.He’s been matched.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 281
Collections: Black Paladins Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my final piece for the 2020 Black Paladins Big Bang! I put blood, sweat, and tears into this piece—it is something I'm extremely proud of. 
> 
> I also had the pleasure of working with [Hannah](http://www.twitter.com/bananuh_) as my artist! She was absolutely lovely and her art will be featured in this fic and linked directly at the end. Hannah, thank you so much for joining me.
> 
> And a big big big thank you to [muse](http://www.twitter.com/museawayfic) for beta-ing even with being so busy running this bang!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

It’s a humid autumn day when a letter addressed to him comes in the mail from the National Soulmate Database. His fingers shake as he opens it, the bold “NSD” glaring up at him through the paper, like it’s taunting him. He expects what he’s about to see, but it doesn’t change the chill that runs through his bones as he opens the letter and reads the loud, bold notification at the top. The Eyes must have matched him.

> > **SOULMATE OF KOGANE, KEITH HAS ENTERED THE FEAR SIMULATION DATABASE. PLEASE SIGN BELOW AND RETURN IN THE PROVIDED ENVELOPE TO SELF-ENROLL.** < <

Keith swallows down his frustration, balls up the paper, and tosses it into the trash can. He refuses to give into this temptation. He’s understood being alone for most of his life. He can run if he has to. There’s nothing stopping him from doing that. He can make himself small enough, secret enough to where the NSD will never be able to find him. He’ll just have to live with leaving his soulmate longing to fill that hole. Betraying them in favor of shying away from a challenge. Keith has tried time and time again to reason with the logic he possesses, but it always falls back on being a coward, and Keith hates the idea of being a coward.

Lance agrees. Lance has already gone through and passed the simulation, being matched with a wonderful woman by the name of Allura. They’re expecting their first child come December. Their lives are fulfilling with each other’s presence, and Keith would be a liar if he says he’s not jealous. He absolutely is, but he’ll never admit to it out loud. He’d rather keep his pride, or what he assumes to be his pride.

“One of my old co-workers entered the system last week despite the fact that he’s in his mid-20s now,” Lance mentions one day. Keith raises an eyebrow, staring at Lance like he’s grown a third eye. His attempts to goad Keith into enrolling have gotten less and less subtle with each day that passes, and every time he brings up the trials Keith feels his blood begin to heat up.

But Keith figures he’ll humor it today. He has nothing better to do. “And how did that go for him?” 

“It was bittersweet,” Lance replies. “When he entered, his longtime boyfriend didn’t get the notification that he did, which means they aren’t matched. It was a little disappointing for them both, and they ultimately decided to break up.”

For some reason, Keith feels his heart pull at the thought of that happening to him. He’s never dated specifically for that reason. He doesn’t want to get invested in someone that he isn’t destined to be with. It would be a difficult situation for both parties, and a heartbreaking one to say the least. It’s one of the many caveats that come with having a soulmate, and if Keith is going to be with someone for the rest of his life then he’d rather start with the someone that it’s supposed to be instead of playing luck with a person he isn’t sure belongs with him.

Keith breaks away from his thoughts, blinking. “Is he okay?” 

“Shiro’s tough and wise,” Lance shrugs it off. “He’s been coping with it. It wasn’t the outcome he wanted but it’s reality. He’s just hopeful that he won’t have to wait for long, but these days prompt responses are hard to come by.”

“Yeah,” Keith gulps, and that’s an abrupt end to the conversation. 

❆

Two weeks later, he finds himself staring holes into the same piece of paper that screamed at him when he first received it. He feels like it’s burning holes into his head. He told himself he wouldn’t let the notification affect him, but it’s all he’s been able to think about. The possibility of meeting his soulmate is at his goddamn fingertips, and he’s the one holding back. Keith, the man who is known to never back down from a challenge. There hasn’t been one he refuses to step up to, at least leading up to this point.

Would he really be able to forgive himself if he were to back away from this at the expense of his soulmate, who is undoubtedly anxious to finally meet him? 

It’s almost comical how much his hand shakes as he signs the bottom of the paper, face cold and blank. The ink bleeds onto the other side of the page with how hard he presses it. The envelope is messily sealed, and he almost rips it in half more than once before it finally falls into the outgoing box. Keith attempts to be resolute, but inside it feels like his gut is wrapping itself in a series of intricate knots. 

For the better part of the day he can focus on nothing else, and he doesn’t sleep for three nights. Instead he’s kept awake by flurries of images invading his mind, imagination providing him what he thinks he’s going to endure. A series of visions that will surely leave him mentally scarred for life, or something of the like. The stories exist - people who become so consumed by their horrifying experience that even meeting their soulmate doesn’t patch up the scars their simulation left. Some have ended up dead, but Keith thinks being an Eye is a fate far worse than death. He’d rather be dead than brainwashed. 

None of that is reassuring though, certainly not when he finally gets a response letter from the NSD providing him with a finalized time and date of his simulation. Next week. He knows he’s been holding onto hope thinking that he’d have more time, but the NSD is prompt and unforgiving. He’s to be retrieved in an unmarked vehicle from his home and escorted to the capital where the bureau stands tall and menacing. 

Keith has never been there. He mostly avoids the capital altogether - too many people, most of whom have already found their soulmates, and anything that makes him feel guiltier for ever thinking it was a humane idea to snub someone else he avoids like the damn plague. He could barely tolerate Lance at first before he got to know Allura, who has to be one of the sweetest women he’s ever met. There’s no doubt they’re a perfect match. She balances out his energy with a calm, headstrong aura. Keeps him in check better than Keith ever could - but Keith usually tried to with methods centered around anger.

He finds himself picking up his phone and calling him, because the idea of going to anyone else makes him nervous. 

“Hey, Keith—” 

“I entered.” Keith cuts to the chase before even letting him finish, blurting it out as if it had been a weight pressing down on his throat.

There’s an aborted gasp on the other end followed by a heavy moment of silence. “Really?”

“Do you think I’d lie? You’ve been shoving the idea up my ass since the moment I told you that I got notified by soulmate or whatever entered,” he quips. “I couldn’t handle the suspense anymore, and I know I’m a dick but I’m not dick enough to ruin someone else’s life.”

“Good for you, man. I’m proud,” Lance chuckles, but it doesn’t sound convincing enough to be a real laugh. “But in a weird kind of way. I wouldn’t wish the experience on anyone, but knowing you, I think you’ll be able to conquer it.”

Keith sure fucking hopes so. 

“Anything you want me to go in expecting?” Keith finds himself asking, but in hindsight he’s not sure he even wants to know.

“Just…” Lance trails off. “Just be prepared. It’s everything they say it is. They don’t fuck around, Keith. Take this seriously, or else you’re gonna be worse off than you’ll be if you’re putting in work.” 

His jaw clenches tight. “Okay. Thanks. I get taken next week.” Keith tries to mull over any final questions he has, breathing out slowly. “How long does the simulation take?”

“It can take anywhere from a few hours to an entire day,” Lance says. “It depends on the person. They told me I took four hours, Allura took three. Don’t focus on time, focus on passing.”

Keith doesn’t say it, but he knows that’s so much easier said than done. Lance probably knows, too. He thanks Lance for the guidance despite it not being comforting at all, then hangs up. Lance means well, and that’s some help, but otherwise he knows that this is going to be all on him to get through. There’s no helping him, no way to guide him. The process of the simulation is unique to every individual, and Keith will not know what he’s getting into until he’s already experiencing it. Much like everything else, he can’t tell if he hates that or not. 

The day after getting his confirmation in the mail, he calls his job and notifies them of the news. He’s given the entire next week off to prepare, but what preparations are to be made? What, he thinks, prepare not to freak out? That’s the whole fucking point of the sim - to freak out and get scared and see everything he stores so far in the back of his mind it never sees the light. Freaking out is essentially inevitable, what matters is how _much_ he freaks out. 

He reaches up to rub at his temples. This is exhausting, and he knows it. He’s going to sink before he even has the chance to swim. His best bet is to not allow the threat to eat up his mind, and as hard as that sounds, it’s about the only choice he has. Because if he lets that happen there’s no way he’s going to survive even five minutes, if that. 

Sleep still doesn’t come easy, but Keith distracts himself hard enough during the day that he’s tired out by the end of it and falls asleep out of pure mental and physical exhaustion. It doesn’t make him feel rested, but he’ll take anything over raging insomnia that drives him absolutely insane.

Keith has very little to pack up in terms of his life. Aside from work, there’s not much he’s leaving behind. He grabs a few changes of clothes, toiletries, a book and a lucky moonstone pendant. The pendant goes around his neck, the rest gets shoved into a duffel bag. 

❆

It’s hard not to feel a deep sense of dread when he’s standing in the doorway of his now-locked apartment, watching with a stone-cold gaze as an unmarked vehicle pulls up to his building. Two black-suited men step out, both wearing dark aviators and emotionless faces. It looks like a scene straight out of a science fiction novel, but it’s very much real, and that begins to settle deep in Keith’s gut, making it feel heavy and weak. 

One of the men approaches him slowly, flashing an NSD badge. “Mr. Kogane,” he begins, his voice hardened and unreadable. “We’re agents from the National Soulmate Database. As notified, we are here to escort you to the city to undergo your fear simulation.” Keith doesn’t say anything, just nods as the man motions his head towards the back door of the car. He slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and nudges his way into the backseat, wordless as the stranger reaches down and shuts the door once he’s settled in.

They exchange no words on the drive to the city, aside from informational things such as letting Keith know that any and all of his questions will be answered by the directors of the trials once he gets there. He’s going to be assigned a room to sleep and keep his personal items in while he’s there, and Keith’s certain that it looks like a glorified prison cell if his imagination is correct.

He tries his best to keep his mind occupied by pointing out certain aspects of nature he sees on his way there. The capital is not an entirely far drive despite him not going there before, but it’s more than enough time for his head to get carried away. So he counts each conifer he sees, points out the colors of the changing leaves on maple trees standing high and tall in the countryside. 

Whether or not Keith is reluctant, he hopes his soulmate will be relieved to know that they’re not being kept waiting. 

The remainder of the drive is mostly a blur as Keith forces himself to think about anything aside from the fact that he’s being taken to the city for examination. He doesn’t even realize they’re there until he glances out the window after several minutes of staring at his feet and sees skyscrapers with all glass windows boxing him in, chasing the clouds. 

Marble stairs lead him to NSD’s headquarters, and he doesn’t lift his gaze from the tile floors until they go behind a code-locked door and enter a separate hallway. There are distant whispers in the background, the tapping of fingers on a keyboard, the distinct scent of freshly polished floors. The atmosphere strikes him as artificial. He’s brought to a desk where he fills out a bunch of paperwork that makes his head hurt, provides fingerprints, then gets shown to his room. It’s just as he thought. The walls are an empty white and there’s a bed with a poor excuse for a dresser in the corner. A little door leads to a small bathroom that could barely fit a toddler. 

At least if he needs to shower, he has that option. He dumps the duffel bag next to his bed and sits on it. The mattress is stiffer than a tree, and the blanket thinner than paper. There’s not a pillow. “At least I’m not sleeping on the floor,” Keith reasons with himself, but it doesn’t quell the discomfort swelling in his veins. It feels almost like being kicked while he’s down. He’s about to be forced to enter a mindscape that will summon all of his patience and mental stability, and they don’t bother to give the participants a comfortable place to rest before they see everything they’ve stored away with the intention of never envisioning it? 

Sounds a lot like rubbing salt in a fresh wound, but there’s nothing he can change about it. If he’s lucky, he’ll only be here for one night and will come back for his things after he passes the trials.

If he’s lucky.

He doesn’t particularly feel like he is.

Dwelling on it won’t do him any good, he knows this for sure as he looks out the small window on the opposite wall and watches as the sun begins to descend behind the skyscrapers. A vast flurry of oranges and reds paint stripes along the darkening sky and combined with this room fitting the entire bill of a fancy holding cell, Keith also feels just as trapped. He’s known to occasionally be the pessimistic type, but in his opinion his point of view isn’t entirely far-fetched this time around. 

Keith plays connect the dots with the stars as they begin to freckle across the horizon, trailing his eyes along the constellations he’s able to point out. This is something he knows he’d hate about the city. The light pollution makes seeing the beautiful attributes space has to offer awfully difficult, and much like the depths of space he finds himself a little empty being in such a foreign place. 

But counting the stars he can see is exactly how he coaxes himself into a resting state. Even if it isn’t quite asleep, it’s something. Something is better than nothing, especially now. 

He doesn’t dream; he never does these days. 

❆

A knuckle thumps on the wood of his door, startling him from his stupor, and he’s up out of his bed in a flash. When the door swings open it’s not someone he’s already met. A tall man stands before him with auburn hair tied back at the base of his neck. He sports a small scar on his cheek and unlike the rest of the NSD agents, he’s not wearing sunglasses. That alone makes him look a little more friendly, a little more _human_.

“Sorry to wake you,” he mutters, offering his hand. “My name’s Matt, I’ve been assigned to you. I’ll be running your trials.” 

Perplexed, Keith half-heartedly reaches out and shakes, mostly to be cordial. “So only one person runs them?” He doesn’t understand the dynamics of the system or its operations, but he assumed it was a group effort more than anything.

“Well,” Matt starts, scratching the back of his neck. “Executives watch from a separate room behind glass, but I’m in the examination room with you. I’ll inject you with a biomedically engineered hallucinogen and keep an eye if anything goes awry. It’s essentially my responsibility to take care of you and make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Keith’s eyebrows pinch together and his lips curl down. “You’re telling me that a simulation that’s supposed to put me through some of the worst experiences I could ever imagine won’t hurt me?”

Matt cracks a weak grin, hands up in submission. “Hurt besides the whole trauma thing. Like if I have to pull you from the simulation and you get violent because you don’t know what’s real or what’s not. It’ll be my job to keep you from hurting yourself or others.”

“Right,” Keith deadpans. “So when’s the party start?”

His eyes dart to Matt’s watch as he raises his wrist to read it. “In a few hours. They should be setting up the room right now. I’ll give you some time to get ready, until then I’ll be outside the door.” He immediately picks up on Keith’s disdain, tries to shrug it off. “Protocol, friend. I have to do what I’m told. We wouldn’t have to do that if we weren’t given reasons to in the past.”

Touche. Keith nods and shuts the door, pulling a fresh set of clothes from the dresser and tossing them onto the bed. The shower is lukewarm at best and provides him no more comfort than the awful excuse for sleep that he had the previous night. But he tries to sink into the water as it cascades over him, scrubbing his skin until it starts to turn red. He works shampoo and conditioner through his hair, wiping the suds away from his eyes until he finds himself standing under the water, staring emptily at the tile wall in front of him.

Keith has never had grounds to question himself in the past, he knows that much. Any challenge he’s been presented with, he’s been able to surmount no matter how long it’s taken. But those challenges have always been ones he’s prepared for, ones that he’s been able to be knowledgeable of in advance. There’s a difference between being cornered by a bunch of thugs that clearly can’t fight on multiple occasions and a mystery altogether. With mildly unreliable information from Lance and horror stories to go off of from the general public, he doesn’t know if he can take on unknown territory and come out on top. Keith can get out of being mugged on the streets. This is nothing like that.

There’s a certain finality to the situation,, a weight heavy on his shoulders as he shuts off the shower and dresses. Next time he comes back to this room, he’ll either feel himself floating or feel like a disappointment. Once he’s towel dried his hair enough to not be bothered by hair sticking to his neck, he tosses the cloth onto the floor and unlocks the door. Matt is sitting there on the ground, fingers tapping away on his phone. He jolts and glances up, stretching as he stands.

“Ready to go? Let’s get you something to eat.” Matt leads the way down boxy, long hallways, and the elevator ride they share is completely silent. Unlike with the other agents, Keith feels more comfortable in the quiet, not forced to be on edge or alert. It ushers his racing head back into an eased state. Eating hasn’t been on his mind given the situation, but his growling stomach answers the hesitation for him. 

Much like the rest of the building seeming like a prison, Keith expects the cafeteria-esque meal of over-processed food and a bitter, crisp apple. Even if the food is mediocre, it’s something, and just like in the elevator Matt doesn’t make him feel obligated to engage. He just wears a calm, reassuring grin and maintains a neutral presence for Keith. Whether or not he comes out victorious, he’ll have to remember to thank Matt later for not being an absolute dick. He’s found a healthy balance between being stoic and welcoming, something Keith can’t say for himself.

Once Keith finishes what he jokingly considers his “last meal”, Matt pulls his ID card from where it’s clipped to his trousers. “Alright, grab a water bottle on the way out. We’re gonna head to the examination room. Don’t worry, we’ll have a bit of down time before we get started. I have to enter in all your information and scan your fingerprints.” 

“Honestly I feel like down time will give me the chance to freak out, so the less of it the better.” 

Matt chuckles. “Save the freaking out for the sim. That’s the point of it, you know.”

Keith laughs. Actually _laughs_ , and it feels long lost but familiar as it bubbles up through his lungs, warm in his throat. Matt beams. “That’s the spirit, Keith. You’re stronger than you think.”

As kind as his words are, they’re hollow to a certain degree. Matt doesn’t know Keith, doesn’t know who he is or the life he’s lived. While he doesn’t disagree with the sentiment, he knows that Matt is just trying to be generous. It doesn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated, even if the experience isn’t there. 

The examination room is exactly the way Keith envisioned it. Grey stone walls, a single chair with straps hanging off of the sides, and a little metal stand to the left of it that has a syringe and two vials resting on paper towels. A box of medical gloves sits on the seat of the chair. As fresh as the air is in here, it’s deceptive and laced with poison of what’s to come. He follows Matt over to the chair and hands him the gloves as he’s directed to sit in it. It reclines just slightly and a part flips out for Keith’s feet to rest on. 

His eyes catch little holes on the pieces surrounding his head. “Matt, what are these?” 

Matt’s eyes dart over and follow Keith’s and he hums. “Those are sensors. They read your brain waves.” He holds up the syringe as Keith takes a liberal sip of water. “I’m going to inject you with a serum that stimulates the portion of your brain that processes fear, and then the device will read the neurotransmitters as they turn into waves and project an image of what’s going on inside your head.” 

Keith doesn’t try to hide how unpleasant he feels about the idea of people being able to see what’s in his mind. “So you are going to be able to see inside my head?” He pretends he doesn’t hear his voice wavering, teetering on the edge of nervousness.

“Myself and executives. The images aren’t shared with anyone else except for the NSD Commander should it be necessary, otherwise they are classified.” He begins to load the syringe with the blue fluid, flicking at the glass. “Speaking about someone else’s simulation is strictly forbidden. Agents could go to jail for that.” He turns to Keith, gently taking the water bottle from his hands. With a small tablet he scans each of his fingerprints before setting it off to the side. “Lean back for me.”

As the back of his head rests against the chair, Keith gulps. Matt turns his chin to the side slowly to expose his neck. “Keep yourself calm. Slow down your breathing and your heart rate.” Matt glances over at the locked door. “Your soulmate is waiting for you. They’re across the hallway and are going through this at the same time. They’re just as scared as you are. You’re not alone, Keith.”

He feels the sting as the needle enters his neck, burning while the serum floods his veins. Keith immediately feels dizzy and sleepy. As darkness begins to fade in from the edges, Matt searches through his eyes. “Should you make it through to the last stage, the last one you do in collaboration with your soulmate. You will meet for the first time when you’re at your lowest point. Don’t forget that.”

Keith’s lips attempt to form words but nothing comes out, and instead all he can hear is static, followed by unrelenting black as reality fades into the background. 

❆

Obscurity begins to fade away from his vision in a matter of seconds, and Keith finds himself standing in the center of a tightrope that stretches between two skyscrapers. _Heights_. He steadies himself and reaches down to hold the rope in an effort to balance, glancing between the two buildings. The hairs on his arms stand and his vision sharpens, breath picking up as copious amounts of adrenaline begin to pump through his veins. 

He swallows thickly. The smartest option would be to get to one of the buildings. There’s a gentle breeze blowing through his hair and while it is soft, it is more than enough to knock him off center. He has to take that into account as well. “Fuck,” Keith croaks, hoping his wobbling mind isn’t mirrored by his feet. With great care he slowly rises back up, holding his arms out to distribute his weight. 

Heel to toe, he makes his way across, sweat beginning to bead like pearls at his temples with the effort he puts into focusing. Keith repeats a mantra in his head like a holy prayer: _don’t second guess yourself._ He almost wants to close his eyes to block it out, to better hear his inner voice encouraging him to move forward.

But he doesn’t, instead letting his pupils pierce through the open window in the building he’s heading towards. He blocks out the breeze, the worry, the sounds in the environment around him. All he allows himself to feel is his own body, each footstep on the rope. Pride begins to bloom as a flower in his chest the closer the window gets, the closer he gets to safety. Right now he has no opportunity to think about what comes next, he only has the present. 

When his foot crosses the ledge and he goes tumbling through the window, Keith’s back hits the concrete floor within the building and the determination that courses through him is indescribable. For a brief moment he’s able to catch his breath while he’s surrounded by blank walls, willing his rapid pulse to slow into a steady thump. It’s only a matter of time until the next simulation begins, and it only gets worse until he reaches the end. 

“I can _do_ this,” he murmurs to himself, just as his vision begins to fall back into the dark. Keith lays back onto the cement, not even bothering to close his eyes as his sight is claimed by blackness, sending him into the next stage of the trials. They won’t go by this quickly, this easily. Each one is going to get more challenging, more traumatizing. He has to be ready to face them.

When he’s able to open his eyes again, he’s in the same room surrounded by concrete, except there’s no window. Instead, the bottom slab drops out from under him and suddenly he’s free-falling straight into a large tank of water many feet below him. The impact knocks his breath away, crushing his lungs and filling them with fire. Bubbles fly to the surface as he sinks to the bottom, arms swinging to start treading the water.

The tank is filling, there’s a pipe at the bottom pumping gallons of water in to join him at a steady rate. Quickly he rises to break the surface, arms slapping against the water. He sputters and coughs between drawing in gasps, lungs burning. He has only minutes until the tank fills completely, rendering him unable to stop the water and taking his opportunity to breathe. _Drowning_ , he thinks, _this fear is drowning_. Keith has never thought too much about becoming a victim to water, and now he thinks he should have. He kicks his legs as he searches for his way out. He should be able to block something, to stop the flow. 

Keith swings his hand up and knocks his knuckles against the glass. He doesn’t have to knock a second time to know that the glass is impenetrable. Even if it was, it’d be impossible to propel his legs forward hard enough to shatter it. The water is creeping up his neck and splashing under his jaw and his head is fighting to come to a conclusion as to what he should do. He peers back down at the pipe again then begins to fight off his sweatshirt.

It’s difficult to peel it off with it being soaked in water, but once he gets it off he has a split moment to heave in a deep gulp of air before he’s forced under. This is his only opportunity to fix the problem, otherwise it’s over before it even has the chance to start. His legs tense and kick with the summoned power to get back to the base of the tank. Keith lets himself sink to the bottom despite his ears popping and his lungs beginning to burn, then stuffs the pipe full of his sweatshirt. It doesn’t go in without struggle and each jerk causes the pain in his chest to spread, but with one last shove it plugs the pipe and water ceases to flow. 

There’s just enough space at the surface for him to poke his mouth through and gasp in air, coughing violently as his body rushes to replenish lost oxygen. The idea of being caught in a riptide isn’t something that’s going to die in the back of his mind for a long time now. He treats his extra seconds as a treasure to even out his breathing, because moments later the darkness seeps through the cracks again and claims his sight. 

Keith comes to surrounded by flames. They’re chaotic, curling around wooden beams and dancing across the floor in a destructive waltz that spares nothing. Smoke billows dense and heavy throughout the room, and Keith already feels his airways clench and clog with the thick, black clouds. _Fire_. He can barely hear his own thoughts with the shrill alarm echoing through each corridor, striking his ear drums with sharp smacks. He needs to find an exit.

Needless to say, it’s hot. It’s scorching, and Keith thinks the hair on his arms is already beginning to singe. Planks are falling from the ceiling above him and he knows it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the building comes with it. Unlike drowning and heights, he fears flames. Fears them because they’re what claimed his late father. He was a fireman, a brave one that willingly dove into danger to save others. In a freak accident, a burning building came down upon him. His body was never recovered, and Keith was never given that closure. For months, he dreamt of merciless infernos. 

He refuses to succumb to this blaze, and fights through. Keith plucks at his t-shirt and pulls it over his nose, holding his forearm level with his forehead to shield his eyes as he navigates the room. He’s deduced that, at the very least, he’s already on the first floor so it’s just a matter of getting to an exit without turning into ash along with the rest of the structure. 

The flames lick at his skin, pricking and threatening to eat away at him. It’s an effort to dodge the shrapnel around him; however, from down the hallway he’s able to spot a door that leads to green grass, air, and _freedom_. Keith swallows down the pain with a bravery he never expected himself to be able to muster, ignoring blisters beginning to form on angry red skin with all of his might. The end of the hallway is only steps away, but it feels like a slow motion movie with how long it takes to get there. He’s running out of time; the building begins to groan and shake around him. The walls are caving in, and Keith’s heart is running a damn marathon.

As the building begins to cave in, the effort to dodge falling flames becomes a battle. Keith has to hold his breath, because any more smoke inhalation and he’s going to drop like a fly. When he gets to the door, he plants one of his feet and kicks with the other, shoving his heel against the wood to make it fall. Since the rest of the place is already so weak, it crumbles easily, but the remainder of the building comes with it. It disintegrates around him and he dives out, scraping against the concrete with a choked gasp. 

The experience in itself was haunting, and the hairs that aren’t singed are standing on end. But what breaks through his courage is what comes when he’s collected himself. He turns back to watch the property become nothing. It’s mostly drowned out by sirens and alarms, but there’s no mistaking the loud, blood-curdling shriek that carries past the flames. 

“ _Dad…_?”

No. 

Keith screws his eyes shut and presses the heels of his palms to them, refusing to let tears spill over his cheeks. He can’t do this. He can’t focus on it. The next stage will start soon, and if he gets caught up in this he won’t be ready to keep going. His body trembles with pent up emotion, years and years of bottling these demons, locking them up and throwing away the key. His throat tightens, and he _breathes_. Just like he did in his adolescence, he buries the memories much like he wishes he could bury his deceased father. 

This is the exact reason he’s been avoiding the simulation. Keith has only known losing his people his entire life, whether it be from abandonment or things far out of human control. The idea of being left behind even by the person he’s meant to spend his life with turns him immediately to ice, cold frostbite serrating right through his bones. That kind of weight would be the tipping point.

If he never meets his soulmate, they can’t hurt him. Can’t _leave_ him.

But here he is.

Keith gives himself the opportunity to let out a quiet whimper as the world fades once again.

It’s still dark when he opens his eyes again. His arms jerk to start moving, to begin the next task, but they’re bound to a chair by rope. Confused, he pulls again, slowly becoming more and more aware of the situation. It doesn’t immediately dawn him where he is or what fear he’s experiencing. He sits there in the silence for several minutes, perplexed and wiggling around in a chair that won’t move. The floor underneath him is concrete; the atmosphere is muggy and moist. He might be in a basement, or a bunker. But he hasn’t much else to go by, only that he’s alone.  
  
There’s a distant slam that comes from above him, startling him. He glances up to try following the sound, when light suddenly floods a stairwell. Keith’s eyes struggle to adjust and he squints, staring at the source of the noise. A shadow begins to descend and although he’s not sure what’s happening yet, he knows it isn’t good. On instinct he struggles a little more, before calling out into the unforgiving darkness. 

“Who are you?” Keith shouts, but there is no answer. Instead only a dark chuckle, and even though the figure is close to him now he still has no distinguishable features. None, in fact. It’s faceless, just the shape of a person but filled completely with blackness. Keith has seen worse in dreams where he’s met with a skeleton or a dismembered being, but never something like this.  
  
The being brandishes a whip, and Keith’s stomach instantly sours. “I’m whatever you think I am, and you’re going to answer some questions for me or else we’re going to have some problems,” it snorts. Its voice is eerie, almost emotionless, like a distant echo in an endless cave. It takes Keith a few moments to connect the dots of his situation, but when he does he feels heavy dread settling deep into his bones. This fear is interrogation - no, worse. _Torture_ . The whip snaps against Keith’s calf, pain shooting up through his leg as he winces, eyes screwing shut.  
  
“What’s your darkest secret?” the man asks in a simple tone. Keith immediately knows the answer, and as easy as it would be to say, an unidentified force keeps him from saying it. Every time he tries to force it out he’s met with nothing but choking on his words, sputtering nonsense. The whip smacks across his leg again, right over the same spot that the perpetrator originally marked. Keith yelps, stinging now magnified. “Not going to talk? That’s fine.” The phantom cracks the whip once, twice, thrice in quick succession against his legs and the burn is so strong Keith is immediately wheezing.  
  
It’s then he realizes that this part of the simulation he’s not meant to win. He’s meant to _withstand_ . There is no way out. Keith allows his head to hang and he draws in deep breaths, his entire body shaking with trepidation. The presence seems to be disappointed in his silence, and unleashes an assault. This time he goes after various parts of his body, from his legs to his arms, to his stomach. Each one tears a choked shriek from him, and when the whip catches across his face and cuts the skin, he _wails_. 

But when everything begins to bleed into one extensive throb he stays silent after that, save for quiet pants each time the weapon strikes him. The pain becomes so great that he goes numb, only feeling the wet, sticky trail of blood that seeps from wounds torn into him. Keith’s bangs hang over his face, but his vision is already obscured with blurry tears and the thrum of pain. Each whip feels like a dull thunk after a while. He might be losing consciousness, or dying, or both.  
  
“A brave boy, not begging for mercy,” the voice whispers, but it’s not from in front of him. It’s coming from inside his mind. “Enjoy your last stage.” The shadow vanishes.  
  
Last stage. The last stage of the trials.  
  
But that means -  
  
“Hello?”  
  
This voice is completely different, a gentle chime. It sounds fresh like spring rain, like newly bloomed roses on an April afternoon. It’s the definition of a carefully crafted lullaby, beckoning him to comfort and security. Keith feels his chest swell with warmth, and it spreads from his heart out to his fingertips and down to his feet. Goosebumps break out across Keith’s skin and he _knows_ this person isn’t going to hurt him, even if he can’t see him. He cracks his eyes open, searching through the darkness.  
  
“Hello?” Keith echoes, voice barely above a whisper. “Is anyone in here?”  
  
He can hear a distant gasp, mixed between relief and confusion. “Yes, yes! I’m here! Where are you?”  
  
Keith blinks blearily, looking around him. “I’m not sure, it’s dark. I was just with a shadow in a basement but I don’t know if I’m still there anymore. Can you try following my voice?”  
  
“Yeah, I can try.” The voice sounds as exhausted as he is. Keith can hear the sound of chair legs sliding across the floor. The man must be tied to one like he is. It’s not the most relieving revelation, but it seems like he’s able to move. The sound carries through the darkness, like a distant echo making its rounds. “Can you keep talking so I can follow? We’re probably closer than we think.”  
  
“Sure,” Keith mutters, then speaks louder. “Yeah, sure, um. My name’s Keith. Today is definitely not my favorite day, but I’m alive in real life and that’s what matters.”  
  
The laugh he hears is pleasant, almost grounding. It makes him crack a smile even though the split in his lip burns something fierce. “I know what that feels like, Keith. My name is Shiro. Nice to meet you.”

A bell in the back of Keith’s mind rings but it’s not loud enough to break through the barrier of agony.

“You too,” Keith breathes. It comes out like he’s been waiting for fresh air, and someone other than shadows is his first chance at it. “Sorry, I—uh—I don’t know what to say right now.”  
  
“That’s okay,” Shiro reassures. “We’re stressed out.” For a moment there’s a pause, like Shiro is considering something. “Tell me something you do on a normal day.”  
  
It takes longer this time for Keith to pick at his own brain, clawing through the fog that has gathered so heavily. “I usually go to a cafe to have a latte, because I have a disgusting obsession with coffee.”  
  
Shiro chuckles again, and the sound is just as gratifying as before. “Same here.”  
  
They exchange small talk like that for a few minutes until the sound of screeching wood becomes so close that he tells Shiro as much, and before long he’s face to face with a dashing man sporting snowy white hair and eyes brighter than the fucking sun. Shiro stops to catch his breath from all of the struggling and Keith sighs, ease sinking into his skin. For a moment his shoulders are able to relax and he can breathe. They meet each other’s gaze and stare for a weighted pause, eyes flickering up and down. 

Keith is the first to shatter the silence, anticipation too much for him to bear. “They told me the last stage I have to do with my soulmate,” he says. “Does this mean we’re soulmates?”  
  
Seeing Shiro laugh is infinitely better than just hearing it. The skin around his eyes crinkles slightly, lips stretching into an ear-to-ear grin. It’s a beautifully bright sight in a sea of darkness, and Keith can’t imagine not smiling right back at him. “I guess so,” Shiro says. “Nice to meet you, finally.” 

Keith is glad it’s so dark, because he doesn’t want to be caught with the reddened blush he’s sporting just from Shiro’s unmatched positivity. “Yeah. Yeah, you, too.” To distract himself, Keith glances around them with a searching look. It’s still pitch black for the most part, with the only light coming from the cracks in the wood above them, but he’s not alone now. He doesn’t know if the stairwell is still in the same room or not. If he’s still even in the basement. All he has to go off of is that Shiro did quite a bit of movement to get to Keith, meaning there is distance to cover if they must.  
  
“It looks like our best bet is to find a way out, huh?” Shiro figures, doing the same observing Keith just did. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Let’s try getting each other untied, okay?” Despite being so positive, Keith can hear the sheer exhaustion in Shiro’s voice. He’s beaten and worn down just like Keith. He’s just endured a series of his own fears, certainly pushed to the limit mentally and emotionally. Although his alacrity is admirable, he shouldn’t have to put up a front. But he understands it; one of them has to be brave. Keith can be, but Shiro’s already doing a better job at it.

They both begin scanning the room around them for a way out of their predicament. It takes minutes of steady silence and sound mind before one of them is able to find something useful. Keith’s eyes catch the slightest glint on the concrete floor, a sparkle in an unforgiving darkness. He cranes his neck forward, squinting down at it. “Glass,” he breathes. “There’s a shard of glass on the floor.” Shiro’s eyes follow his and he makes a noise of victory, just as relieved as he is. Keith watches Shiro scoot closer to it, contemplating. “We just need to figure out a way to grab it.”  
  
Keith expects this to be a more difficult feat but finds that Shiro already knows what to do. “Don’t mind what I’m about to do, I’ll get us out,” he says, then promptly tips himself over and goes crumbling to the floor with a dull, visceral clatter. Keith has to hold himself back from nagging at Shiro for hurting himself, but he sews his mouth shut when he watches the man worm his way over to the shard. He snatches it with a bound hand, then scoots over to Keith. It takes adjustments and patience, but with a few well-aimed cuts, Keith’s rope comes undone. 

“Good, Keith,” Shiro cheers and Keith’s cheeks burn at how prideful the praise makes him feel. “Now hold it between your feet and I’ll get my hands then yours.” Keith does as he’s told, pressing the balls of his shoes together to hold the glass between them. Shiro scrapes one hand against it, and when those restraints come undone he simply takes the glass and gets the other. Then he goes for his own ankles. In a matter of moments Shiro’s standing—far taller than Keith expected—stretching out with a triumphant whoop. “You next,” he mutters, gentle as he cuts the rest of Keith’s ropes free. 

Being able to stand up straight is a relief. He rubs at the tender rope burns on his wrists, then nods toward stairs. “That’s probably the way out of this… place. Of the simulation too, probably.” Shiro agrees with the statement, slipping the glass shard into his pocket in case it’s needed. Keith makes his way over to the stairs. “There’s probably more _things_ up there waiting. We need to keep on our toes.” Not like he hasn’t been for this entire experience, but he’s mentally exhausted and it’s hard to hear over the throbbing in his ears. To see beyond the black dots in his vision.

He’s not wrong. When they climb the stairs and the door swings open, they’re confronted by two entities. They’re similar to the one Keith dealt with alone, but these are more hostile, standing with claws out. There’s no mistaking the razor sharp teeth, tendrils extending out from the blackness with pointed ends. They don’t seem to have eyes but they’re unsettling without them. “Let’s just fight to get to the door,” Shiro says as he points towards the exit behind the monsters. They both know it’ll be easier said than done but that _has_ to be their way out of the simulation. It’s not worth giving up now, when success is so close. 

The shadows are every nightmare Keith has ever had combined into one massive _thing._ They shriek as they descend upon them in a flash, snaking through the darkness. Keith already feels the fear begin to prickle along his arms, sharp and pointed needles picking away at him. He’s able to dodge one of the swinging arms but teeth scrape along his face, and he knows the wet warmth running down his cheek is blood. Shiro has his own demon to battle just the same. _Demons,_ Keith thinks. _That’s what these are._ They certainly embody everything a demon could be imagined as. 

In a last ditch effort, Shiro snatches the shard of glass from his waistband and slashes at the entity. It lets out an ear-piercing shriek, then fades into a mess of particles. Keith is able to watch from the other side of the staircase with wide eyes, and when they meet Shiro’s they know what to do. Shiro tosses the glass Keith’s way. Keith barely registers the burn as it cuts into his hand when he catches it. Instead he puts the last of his energy into swiping at the body, watching with wild eyes as the shadow splits in half and flickers away. The shard falls from Keith’s bloodied hand, shattering once it makes contact with the floor. 

“We can leave,” Keith says with a slow exhale, like he’s been starved of clean oxygen for years. “It’s over.” 

Shiro follows him to the door and they pause, staring at the rotting wood. “So what happens on the other side?” He glances Keith’s way. 

Keith shrugs, giving Shiro a noncommittal look. “We can’t stay here forever, and I really don’t fucking want to.” He puts his hand on the doorknob. “We’re probably going to meet, and try to pretend this never happened.” It doesn’t matter if either of them are ready. He twists the knob, and the door swings open in a gust of wind.

Unlike the entirety of the simulation, this time Keith’s vision goes completely white.

He shoots up from the examination chair, hacking and coughing. He’s on edge as he scans the room, catching his breath in heavy gulps. Hands are on his shoulders keeping him from thrashing too much, and Keith jerks away at first until the person behind those hands speaks. “Hey chill out there, Keith, it’s Matt.” Matt sounds familiar, and his head snaps up to the source. Memories from before the sim sink back in and he begins to relax after a few tense moments. “There you go,” Matt encourages. “You really killed it, Keith. You won’t have to do this shit again. Good for you.” 

“I won’t have to do the simulation again? Thank god,” Keith says, putting his head in his hands. Matt hands him a bottle of water and he practically inhales it, chugging the drink down in just a few breaths. While he does so his eyes scan his own body, and he’s surprised to see that there’s no blood. Instead his skin is clear, unscathed, and free of any residual pain left from any of the stages. Keith realizes then that the whole experience really was in his head.  
  
Then it dawns on him - “Where’s Shiro, then? He’s my soulmate right?” A beat passes, then Matt cocks his head towards the wall in front of them. At first Keith’s confused - it’s a wall. Nothing is there. He feels like he has to search for something, but then the wall begins to cave in on itself and descend. On the other side Shiro’s sitting in his own chair, gripping a water bottle with a tight hand. Unlike in the simulation he looks a little more composed, far less gruff. More put together. The moment their eyes meet feels odd. It’s not the feeling that Keith expects - the feeling of completeness, relief, like he’s whole. 

Instead it just… is what it is. They meet at the center of the room and exchange timid smiles, following behind their examiners who direct them to the secretary that signs them out of the test. Their fingerprints are taken again and they’ve handed proof of passing the simulation, and in a rush they’re sent on their way with their things retrieved from their rooms. It all feels like a blur with how fast it goes, and Keith almost feels out of place when his feet touch the marble steps outside of the building. 

For a moment Keith has to steady himself, because a part of him fears that this is fake. That he hasn’t woken up yet, and is still strapped to the examination table. That the paperwork was a puzzle and he’s filled it out incorrectly, remaining stuck in the trials. But nothing changes after several minutes and he eventually sighs.

He sits down on the stairs and Shiro sits with him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says in a gentle tone. “We’re done and it’s over. There’s nothing else to worry about now.” 

“Yeah,” Keith nods slowly. “Just hope that this is real and not another trick.”  
  
It’s a brave move on Shiro’s part but he gently pinches the skin in the juncture of Keith’s neck, and Keith jolts with a squeak. “See?” Shiro is hopeful as he grins. “Real, you’re all good.”  
  
Something warm and odd settles in Keith’s stomach, but he doesn’t push it away. 

Taking in the scenery before him almost makes him feel more lethargic, but he has to snap the silence. “So,” he says, looking up at Shiro. “What now then, soulmate? How do you feel about… us?” He doesn’t have the ability to hide the nervous edge to his voice, throat tightening enough that it makes it troublesome to try swallowing down his anxiety. 

Shiro looks equally as unsure as he shrugs, but he looks optimistic as his lips stretch into a grin. “We’ll have to see.” There’s a distinct pause, one that drags on. Like he’s calculating his next move, plucking words carefully from the sky above them. “I… could learn to love you, Keith.” He’s timid as he closes the distance between them, and Keith expects a kiss. Although he’s far too nervous for one, he leans in anyway.

He doesn’t get a kiss. Instead, Shiro tucks some of the stray black hair that fell from his face away behind his ear. It strikes Keith harder than a kiss, how compassionate and respectful the action is. They’re both in a position where they don’t know anything about each other, but the willingness to put in effort is there. Shiro is logical; he doesn’t expect romance right away just like Keith doesn’t. It’s clearly meant to be, that’s been decided, but there’s no rush in it. They can take their time, learn one another. 

Although he’s fatigued far beyond his limits, he’s equally as pleased. Carefully, he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to Shiro’s cheek. “I could learn to love you, too, Shiro.” It makes their relationship more realistic, more organic to approach it this way. When they exchange phone numbers and part, Keith feels sanguine instead of burdened. He won’t feel rushed or pressed for time. They’ll be able to grow together slowly, gracefully. For the first time since getting his initial letter from the NSD, he can’t wait to see what having a soulmate brings. 

When he’s home, all of his things are discarded and forgotten on the floor and he falls asleep in his bed fully clothed. He had missed his mattress in all of its worn down, broken-springed glory more than he’s willing to admit. It’s the first night in months that he’s able to have a peaceful rest instead of being plagued by nightmares and circling questions of what’s to come. Facing his worst fears, while traumatic, was also freeing. This won’t be something he’ll have to worry himself over again. And when he wakes up in the morning, he still won’t have to worry.

In the morning he wakes with a rested yawn and a warm smile. When he picks up his phone, there’s a text waiting for him. 

> Shiro [8:49am]: _Good morning, Keith. Hope you slept well. Want to meet for coffee later?_  
  
The smile grows and instead of drowning in fear, he’s floating on hope. 

> Keith [9:17am]: _I’d love to._

* * *


	2. Epilogue

“I still can’t believe that Lance knew you all this time,” Keith snorts, holding up his left hand to the ceiling, palm up. He traces the ring with his right index finger, feeling the textured pattern of the jewels. “He literally spoke about you when I told him that I had gotten the letter about you entering.”    
  
Shiro gawks at him. “Are you  _ serious _ ? What did he say?” 

Keith hums, picking his mind to remember. “He mostly talked about your ex,” he mutters. “How you guys decided to respectfully part ways when you realized you weren’t soulmates.” This is something they’ve discussed in passing—Shiro’s ex. While Keith had little to no experience with dating solely for the reason of having a soulmate, Shiro had other plans. Keith has never judged him for that. In fact, he finds the act brave and damn near admirable. It was a big risk and Shiro took it. They were happy together, and knowing he was happy is enough for Keith.    
  
A brief look of pain crosses Shiro’s face. “That was pretty hard. He was a great guy. We were together for a while.” He sighs, shaking his head as if to try to dispel the recollection. “But we mutually agreed it wasn’t worth trying to force the relationship if it wasn’t meant to be. We didn’t like the system, but we also didn’t doubt it. I hope he found his soulmate like I found you.”    
  
Something warm settles in Keith’s gut and he grins, rolling over to face Shiro. “I’m your favorite, right?”

Shiro chuckles. “You know you are, sweetheart.”

Keith twirls the hem of Shiro’s shirt with his finger, flashing him a devilish smirk. “Prove it, then.” He surges forward, pressing their lips together in a tender kiss that quickly turns heated. Shiro bites and nibbles at Keith’s bottom lip as he straddles on top of him, legs on either side of Shiro’s waist. His hands roam up Keith’s thighs, catching on the bottom of his nightshirt and pulling it up. It’s tossed unceremoniously to the floor and they don’t waste a single breath when returning to exploring each other. Keith easily yields under Shiro’s brave tongue, pushing past his lips and claiming his mouth.

With a throaty groan, Keith wrestles off Shiro’s shirt. He revels in the feeling of skin against skin when their chests press together, and Shiro’s hands snake down to get greedy handfuls of ass, gripping hard. Keith rolls his hips, chasing the friction of Shiro’s hardening erection against his own. It won’t be long until their patience runs out, so he soaks in the teasing and milks it for as long as he can. Shiro is merciless in the way his teeth catch and bite into Keith’s lips, and when he mouths down the column of his neck it’s no different. Freshly sucked bruises join the ones that have begun to fade and Keith tips his head back to expose more of the sensitive skin for better access.    
  
“You’re beautiful,” Shiro says as he pushes Keith’s boxers off and his own sweatpants down. They both share low whines when their cocks brush together in a feathery slide. “So perfect, baby. My favorite,  _ always _ my favorite.” He peppers kisses along Keith’s collarbones, barely paying attention to Keith’s ever-impatient whimpers. Shiro has always been focused on savoring Keith and taking his time as he pleases despite Keith’s complaints, but he knows it’s welcomed affection. He worships Keith like a well-loved instrument, playing all of his strings in a perfect tempo that has him singing with pleasure.   
  
With Keith already stretched from a previous round, it’s all too easy to give into his quiet pleads and position the head of his cock at Keith’s entrance. Shiro expects him to slide down in a slow and steady drop but is instead taken by surprise when Keith sits his hips down all at once, taking Shiro to the hilt with a quiet gasp, thighs quivering. Shiro’s hands fly to Keith’s hips and he steadies himself to accommodate the sudden heat surrounding his cock. 

Keith’s nails mark crescents into Shiro’s chest when he begins to move his hips, rolling in sinuous circles. His lips are reddened and swollen from kisses as they drop open around moans. He looks ethereal in the moonlight, body outlined and nearly aglow from the luminescence dripping through the window. His hair cascades in inky waves over his shoulders, and the most beautiful flush dusts over his cheeks and down to his chest. Shiro feels so swollen with love, and he can’t stand to hold it in.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises. “You’re taking me so well, always do. Love being able to look up at you like this.” Shiro slowly begins to thrust up to meet Keith’s grinding, and it sets Keith aflame. The movement establishes a rhythm between them, one that makes them both dizzy with lust. “You look so pretty bouncing on my cock, Keith. Could look at you like this all fucking day.”   
  
“ _ Shiro _ ,” Keith grits through his teeth, eyebrows scrunched together in bliss. His entire core feels molten, a coil of arousal tightening from his ass up to his navel. It feels like his mind has begun to fill with cotton, stealing away any distracting thoughts and forcing him to focus on nothing but the scorching, wet slide of Shiro’s cock. On a particular downstroke he sobs out a broken sound, shuddering uncontrollably and breath hitching. “Fuck,  _ fuck _ , right there— _ ah!”  _

With a steel grip Shiro holds onto Keith’s waist, pulling him down into each thrust. He can hardly hear each lewd slap the motion makes, far too focused on the sight of Keith coming undone on top of him, almost deafened by the blood rushing in his ears. “Just like that, Keith,” Shiro says as he watches Keith curl in on himself with a moan. “Come on, baby, I know you’re close. You can whenever you need to.” He’s sure to angle each thrust to not just brush against Keith’s prostate but to jab into it, every slide pushing Keith closer to the edge.

“Oh, oh  _ fuck _ ,” Keith keens helplelessly. “I’m gonna— _ oh god— _ Shiro you’re gonna make me  _ come—”  _

His own climax closes in on him and he speeds up his thrusts. “Let go, Keith,” he coaxes. “Want to feel you around me when I come inside you, sweetheart.” 

The gentle pet names matched with Shiro’s merciless thrusts are all too much for Keith and he comes untouched, back curved like a taut bow ready to fire. He cries out, stars that match the night sky bursting behind his eyelids in endless flurries of meteors as ropes of come paint over Shiro’s chest. He’s an absolute view, a panting mess as he trembles through his orgasm. His eyes are screwed shut and his entire body feels like it’s transcending with the ecstasy that overwhelms him in a massive flood of completion. 

That alone is Shiro’s undoing, and he fucks into Keith as deep as he can, growling out a mix between a curse word and Keith’s name as hot pulses of come fill him in arrhythmic spurts. His cock throbs harder than his own heartbeat with the force of his climax, but the pounding in his chest is his reminder that he’s still alive even during an experience as otherworldly this. As he comes down from it he pulls Keith close, pressing their foreheads together while they catch their breaths. 

He’s cautious and attentive to Keith’s very used ass as he pulls out, almost sickeningly satisfied with the sight of come slowly leaking down the inside of Keith’s thighs. Shiro shakes it off though, caging Keith in his arms and rolling them onto their sides. He noses his way into the juncture of Keith’s neck, sighing out blissfully as he litters the skin with more kisses. “I love you so much, baby,” he murmurs into the space. “So thankful I got to meet you. So thankful I have you.”

Keith tilts Shiro’s chin up and kisses him sleepily, a sated little smile on his face. “I’m thankful for you too, Takashi,” he coos. “I’m so happy I learned to love you, and I do love you. So fucking much, more than all of the moons and stars and planets in the universe combined.”    
  
Shiro’s grip around his waist tightens and he hums a quiet song into his forehead until Keith’s breathing begins to even out, chest swelling with intense euphoria. “Maybe,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “But I love you  _ most _ , sunbeam.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the link that directs you straight to Hannah's art on twitter: [twitter!](https://twitter.com/bananuh_/status/1275123470809149440?s=20>here!</a>%0A%0AJoin%20me%20in%20screaming%20on%20<a%20href=)
> 
> Comments & kudos make my heart doki - especially for this piece. I'd love to hear what you have to say. <3 
> 
> Thanks to the Big Bang mods and Hannah for a lovely first experience!


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